Non Memoriam

JESSE DIORON

May 30, 2020

Do not remember me, I beg you.

Neither weep nor laugh.

Forget me, please.

As you would a pleasant dream before you fully wake.

A rainy day not wet enough to stay.

A hiccough suddenly stopped without a start.

A bump whose only proof of being is an unexpected bruise.

A piece of paper, used, months ago, to list those items now unneeded at the store.

The trip — before and after.

The last light of the night.

And the place unmarked in the book you find, lying on the floor.

In 1983, two men beat JESSE DOIRON nearly to death with a hammer. Panhandle.  Now, he’s 70. Ready to die of COVID. Had a good life. His wife still loves him, his son still befuddles him, and his daughter still inspires him. He wants them to live carefree.